


Petals of Wood

by Umbra_Erus



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbra_Erus/pseuds/Umbra_Erus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As snow falls like lace around the busy streets of London death is an ever looming possibility to those lacking a warm hearth to stand by and a certain red reaper is more then willing to fill the order. But when a grinning, silver madman catches her interest, her well-planned holiday takes an unexpected turn. Cast to the wayside, facing heartbreak and rejection the last person Grell ever expects comes to her aid. Can Undertaker mend the wilted rose within her heart or will its petals scatter to the icy winds flowing off the gown of Winter's unforgiving lady?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petals of Wood

**Author's Note:**

> This story was heavily inspired by a picture I found on the internet (You can find it here if you wish: http://darylschupacabra.deviantart.com/art/Merry-Christmas-Grell-x-Undertaker-421978340) I don't know the artist but I love the picture and I thank DarylsChupacabra big time for drawing it, its so adorable and heartwarming. I do not own Kuroshitsuji or any of its characters, just the OC's and the story. I hope you enjoy it!

The snow fell in large, fluffy crystals that evening, blanketing the busy streets and decorated surfaces of London with its glistening, pristine veil of white beauty. Lamp posts were wrapped in gossamer strings of garland and entryways were festooned with wreaths of green adorned by red ribbons and baubles of gold. Sprigs of mistletoe hung from elusive locations awaiting unsuspecting couples to fall into their spells while the Lady of Winter crocheted fine works of frosted lace upon the dimly glowing window panes of every home and carolers wandered from door to door spreading the uncommon sense of warmth and fellowship amongst their fellow man. For the upper and middle classes of England it was looking to be a perfect Christmas Eve.

  
Yet, in the lonely, filth-ridden slums of the city where no noble would normally set foot, all was not the same. The same maiden of snow who graced the windows of the richer families with art they took for granted or simply brushed away brought her icy fury down upon those who had no shelter with which to elude her, chilling the tired and fragile bones of those who hadn’t food enough to warm themselves against her merciless rage. No decorations were hung, the lamp posts were bare and those who sang of good will and cheer passed by with nary a sound, lost in their hypocritical irony. Amongst the bleak and forsaken background a single splash of color stood out and yet the omen it brought was nothing short of doom. A bright red reaper with flowing locks of blood and a sharpened smile sought out his next victim with hurried enthusiasm, his heels clicking against the frozen cobblestones, a growling chainsaw in his hands and a poem in his heart as the sorrowful cry of one in mourning reached his ears from nearby. He passed the forlorn figures of a charity worker asking for coin to feed the poor, a starving man who had given up the chance of being shown some kindness long ago and a pair of orphan siblings wandering in the cold in hopes of keeping warm; he barely spared them a glance as he moved past, instead going to the source of the sound. He stopped near the alleyway his assigned list had designated and looked on for a moment as a young man in tattered clothing grieved over the loss of his sickly love. “L-Lucile, Lucile why? I…I almost had enough to buy your medicine, please…please don’t leave me now!” he sobbed into her dress, her limp frame cradled delicately in his arms.

  
“Aww, how sad.” Grell spoke to only himself, his presence masked through Shinigami magic to prevent the young man from detecting or hearing him. “What a depressing place to send me during the holiday.” He readied his weapon as he walked over, a scowl of distaste present on his lips. “Well, whatever, this is my last collection for today…” a sudden squeal of excitement jumped forth as he clutched his scythe tighter, “Eeeee and then I can go and see my darling Willikins and give him his present~! He’ll be so surprised!” he wiggled his hips in delight and raised his chainsaw above his head, revving the engine and bringing it down and across the deceased woman’s motionless body though taking care not to reap her distraught lover.

Cinematic Records poured forth from within and Grell opened his book as the collection was made. “Lucile Evans, age 34. Cause of death an unexpected infection that turned into Pneumonia. No special remarks.” Upon snapping the book closed and banishing his weapon he looked up as Big Ben tolled the hour from afar: 6:00 pm. “Done and with an hour to spare. Oooh yesss and that’s why I’m a reaper to die for!” he made the death salute to no one in particular and left the alleyway and the unfortunate couple behind without so much as a second thought.

  
He exited the lower class area and practically skipped through town, having dropped his veil cloaking him from view he ignored the onlookers who watched with mild interest and confusion at the feminine, crimson man prancing merrily down the streets. Grell did a little the twirl at the fantasy that played over and over in his mind. He could see it as though it were right before him, he would give his gift to Will and the stoic supervisor would finally let the ice around his heart melt, he would grasp the red-head tightly by the shoulders and remove his glasses slowly, then his lips would descend upon his for a hungry, sensual kiss. Paperwork and clutter once so important would be swept aside to make room for his naked and trembling body as William crawled upon his desk to hold him tight and ravage every bit of his being. A blush caressed his cheeks as he stopped his movements and clasped his hands together near his chest, his eyes closed with the image. “Oh William how I long for you! You push me away but I know deep inside there’s a part of you that wants me! If only you would…hm? “The sudden, joyful sound of a bell drew his attention away from his innermost thoughts and he opened his eyes to find himself standing across the street from a shop that was all too familiar. His gaze was brought to the large, skull adorned sign reading Undertaker that hung above the entrance to the dismal little funeral parlor. Movement drew his eyes back down to the open door and he witnessed the retired Shinigami emerge from within. He was in his usual mortician attire, black and grey color scheme that would normally blend in efficiently with the dull hue of winter was broken for the holidays by a red ribbon tied in a bow around his strange top hat and a soft green scarf wrapped comfortably around his neck. Curious, Grell jumped up onto a roof and hid himself neatly behind a chimney to avoid being spotted as he watched the silver haired elder cheerfully hang a wreath decorated with little skulls and lilies on his ominous door. Though the ornament itself was a little inappropriate for the holiday a smile still blossomed on Grell’s face as he watched Undertaker finish it off by tying a big black and red stripped bow just above the largest skull at the bottom of the wreath, wearing a happy grin all the while and humming a little tune to himself. He found his enthusiasm endearing and he risked leaning away from the chimney to get a better look, his eyes roving over the waterfall of silver that spilled down the ancient’s back like fine silk. “Ohh he’s so beautiful~!” he whispered to himself, “Mmm you may be a creepy old loon Taker-dear but I saw what was underneath that mop of yours~ Ah I’m getting goose bumps just thinking of it!” He hugged himself tightly.

  
Undertaker finished tying the bow and stepped back to admire his handiwork, grinning proudly. He was so into his own thoughts and what he was doing that he didn’t sense the incoming attack. At once a burst of snow struck above his head and he gave a little start, his smile faltering as his hat was knocked clean off. As he reached up and touched the top of his head to confirm it was true he also spun around to see where the unexpected assault had come from, though just as he did another snowball hit the side of his face, a jagged rock that had been purposely rolled within slicing into the soft flesh of his left cheek and leaving a one inch gash in its wake. Even more startled by that Undertaker’s hand moved down to his face, his hidden gaze locked onto a small group of boys who couldn’t have been any older than 12. His long fingers pulled away from his cheek and he noticed they were lightly stained with blood.

  
“Merry Christmas Freak!” one of the boys shouted at him, chucking a larger snowball at the aging reaper.

  
From the rooftop Grell’s whispered speech came to a sudden halt when Undertaker’s hat suddenly went missing and he couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when the second snowball drew blood. He brought a hand to his lips, his eyes wide with shock momentarily before his whole expression turned savage and his mouth curved into a snarl. _Why those horrible little brats! Creepy or not how dare they attack a Shinigami, especially Unny!_ He whipped out his chainsaw, his anger only peaking when he heard the boy add insult to injury. _I’ll paint them red for this!_ He moved to jump off of the roof but paused when a third snowball was thrown just after the insult had been shouted. Grell watched as Undertaker caught the frozen projectile in his hand just before it reached his face, his jet black nails digging lightly into the compacted powder. His grin had also returned to his expression though this time it was menacing, especially as he tipped his head slightly forward. Though unable to see it, the red-headed reaper could tell that the mortician was glaring daggers at the undisciplined youths and it made a shiver of both delight and fear run up the length of his spine.

  
The humans must have noticed too because they fell silent and their muscles went ridged when Undertaker’s smile came back in a different light. His grip tightened on the snowball and it broke apart, revealing the stone that had been placed within. “Hihihi, weren’t you lads ever told that you should respect your elders?” Holding the stone up between his thumb and forefinger he used his otherworldly strength to shatter the rock into pieces before them, causing them to jump. “It’s rather cold todaaay.” He reached over to pick up a shovel that was leaning against the wall of his shop and he slung it over his shoulder, gesturing at them with a long sleeve, “Perhaps you’d like to warm up in one of my custom made coffins? I’ll even throw a blanket of dirt on top to make you nice and cozy~.” He chuckled darkly.

  
The faces of the children blanched white with fear and they swallowed hard and slowly backed away several steps before the leader tripped over his own feet and fell on his rear, “R-Run!” he shrieked out, rolling onto his hands and knees and scrambling back up before dashing after his clumsily fleeing posse, the thunderous and somewhat mad cackling of the funeral director echoing after them down the street and fueling their frantic retreat even further.  
Grell watched the scene unfold before him and lowered his weapon when the boys ran away. He frowned, slightly unsatisfied by the meager punishment that had been dealt to them but as he glanced back at Undertaker and saw him lying on the ground laughing like a child till his shop sign fell down off of its hooks he giggled quietly behind his hand and shook his head, letting his chainsaw vanish. “Oh Unny you really are a mad thing aren’t you?” he snickered, doing his best to keep the infectious laughter quiet; “Hmm but you’re a hot madman none the less~.” He grinned lewdly, getting a good look at Undertaker’s thigh high boots while he was still giggling in the snow.

  
Undertaker got control of himself soon, a stray snicker or two escaping him as he stood up from the ground and wiped the tears from his eyes. He glanced down at his shop sign and chuckled, opening his shop door and retrieving a ladder which he used to help him hang it back up where it belonged. Once finished he put the ladder back inside and locked up his shop. He located his hat not far away and brushed it off before cramming it back on his head. “There now, hihi, I had better hurry, I don’t want to keep them waiting.” Walking to the flower shop across the street he entered and purchased several dozen different kinds, getting them for a good price given his arrangement with the proprietor for funerary purposes.

  
“Hm, I wonder where he’s going that’s so special to need that many flowers.” The crimson reaper thought as he saw Undertaker leave with the giant bouquet. Grell stood from where he’d seated himself on the edge of the roof and looked at his watch, 6:13. “Well…I have time before I have to be back. It might be worth it to see what Unny does on Christmas Eve~!” he suppressed a loud squeal so he wouldn’t be heard and he jumped across the rooftops with feminine grace as he followed after the joyful mortician.

  
* * *

  
Grell stopped outside the local cemetery, watching the elder Shinigami open the black gate and enter the grounds. “Ugh, I should have known he’d visit the dead, this man has absolutely no social life to speak of…” he crept after him, using his veil once again, he knew it wouldn’t prevent Undertaker from detecting him if he got too close but it would at least help his flamboyant appearance from standing out at a distance. He watched as Undertaker danced elegantly around the headstones as if he had not a care in the world, his hair swirling around him and sparkling as beautifully as the snow he was surrounded by as he glided about the cemetery. He spoke kindly to the dead who rested there as he danced; having a memory of each one that he had placed there himself and occasionally pausing his movements to strike up a one sided conversation. It both amazed and unnerved Grell that while speaking to the dead sounded like a truly insane concept when Undertaker did so it was as if they were truly answering him back in a voice so soft that only he, who was in tune with their feelings, could hear and it left the red-head wondering if perhaps that could truly be the case. Did he have a connection to their souls even after they had been reaped? Could he hear their subtle whispers from another realm away? The question burned at him, a part of him hissed that it was impossible, yet the other side of him watched the ancient leave a flower at every barren and forgotten stone, offering gentle words and friendship to those within the graves and that side of him wondered at the idea that it might not be so unimaginable after all. He looked at the headstone he was currently hiding behind and bit his lip a little before offering a muttered “Hi.” He listened closely after, hoping to hear something, anything that might prove his theory true but the only sound was the moan of the wind and Undertaker’s distant humming and chatting. Grell sighed, maybe it was an ability only the elder Shinigami had, or perhaps he was just a few cards short of a full deck; he had a feeling he would never really know for sure.

  
He kept an eye on him until his task was finished, by then he had started to doze against the cold stone and only the eerie whine of the gate protesting at Undertaker’s leave made him aware that he was falling behind. With a small start he jumped to his feet and hurried after the silver man, curiosity ruling him as he wondered what else he might be up to on the auspicious holiday eve…

  
* * *

  
Undertaker snickered to himself as he made his way through town. The streets were overcrowded with last minute holiday shoppers vying for the perfect gifts. Most of the mortals parted for him like the red sea, wanting nothing to do with the eccentric, grinning mortician who could unnerve them without even seeing his face. He paid them no mind, though he would occasionally pause and hold a door open for someone whose arms were laden with packages and he tipped his hat cordially to the few who dared attempt (and failed) to make eye contact with him. As he passed a toy store the ancient smirked, he mused that the Funtom company’s current sales would likely double over night. _Hihi I wonder if that will bring a smile to the young Earl’s sour face? That lad could use a good laugh now and then._ He produced a package wrapped in brown paper and a black ribbon from the sleeve of his robes as he pushed open the door to the post office and stepped inside. _Well perhaps this will help._ He thought as he approached the counter and offered a friendly wave to the two exhausted men standing behind it, the swarm of vicious upper crust demanding gifts be delivered on time for Christmas had greatly taken their toll on the postal workers. “Evening chaps.” Undertaker grinned in his usual way as he stopped in front of them. “Think you can handle one more?” he gestured to the package that he laid down on the counter.

  
“Good evening sir.” One of the men answered tiredly, “Yes I believe we can, where is it going?”

  
“To the Earl Ceil Phantomhive. If you could get this to the young lord by tomorrow I’d be grateful.” he grinned and offered them a few coins well over the price it would cost to deliver the parcel. He chuckled as he watched their eyes grow as large as dinner plates. “S-sir we can have it there by tonight for you.” One of them stammered as the other accepted the coin.

  
“Hihihi, I would appreciate that~. I’ll leave this in your hands then.” He nodded to them and made his exit, giggling as he walked down the street and drawing a few strange looks from those around him. It never ceased to amaze him just how easily the human mind could be manipulated through greed, a thing that was both amusing and convenient to an immortal that had little love of the Queen’s legal tender. It was worth tossing around a few coins to make an attempt at bringing a smile to the little noble’s face, he tried every year after all, ever since the young Earl’s return and a standing arrangement with Tanaka ensured that he would hear if he was successful. He breathed in the crisp twilight air that smelled of gingerbread and turkey as he passed by some of the more fortunate houses in favor of taking an alternative route home now that his errands were concluded.

  
Grell had watched the postal exchange from the window, frowning a little when Undertaker skillfully bribed the workers into doing his bidding. “Just for that little brat, hmph, he wouldn’t know happiness if it came up and bit him in his scrawny leg. All he does is sulk and make my poor Sebas-chan miserable. What use is it giving a gift to such a heartless, dispassionate boy?” His eyes widened behind his glasses and he ducked out of view when Undertaker turned around and came back outside. The thrill of nearly being caught caused his heart to hammer in his chest and he clamped his hands over his mouth to hide his excitement as he pressed himself against a wall to avoid being seen. He saw Undertaker pause and glance around, likely having sensed his presence at least partially as he had been rather close. Grell swallowed hard and backed a little further away to give the elder room, relief flooding through him when he saw him shrug and continue on his way. “Oooh that was close, I don’t want him to see me just yet after all~!” he sauntered after him, noting that he wasn’t heading home just yet which struck him as odd as he knew that the silver reaper was quite a hermit and disliked being out and about for too long. It surprised him greatly that the current target of his stalking lead him back into the very same slums from whence he had come not long before, after finishing his assignment. _Huh? What could he want here? Oh Under-darling just what is going through that beautiful unhinged mind of yours?_ What are you planning behind that curtain locking your emotions away hmm? Jumping up onto a nearby rooftop he shadowed from above to get the best view possible.

  
Undertaker wasn’t fully sure what had drew him to the gutter of London where those forgotten and left behind resided; he simply felt that he was needed and year after year he had been more than happy to oblige, to do what he could when so few others would lift so much as a finger in their stead. He heeded not the warnings he had received regarding loss of reputation, ignored the sneers he received when he entered an area no ‘self-respecting’ noble would be caught dead if they had no business there. Those close by stared, unable to understand why the most mysterious of the ‘evil noblemen’ would take the time each year on Christmas Eve to visit those who were often victims of the underworld’s notorious dealings. His boots fell silently on the cobblestones and the wind caressed his hair like a lover as he made his way down the broken paths wearing a warm smile, a song of ages past in his soul and a star glowing in his heart. A pair of orphaned siblings caught his eye as they approached him from the opposite direction, the brother of the two doing his absolute best to try and comfort his shivering sister whose auburn locks were windblown and hanging in an unkempt fashion around her face. The pair halted and looked up with wide eyes when they spotted the tall, grinning stranger in front of them.

  
Beneath his natural veil his eyes took in their situation and it tugged at his old heart strings. He hadn’t the means to care for them but at most he could provide a bit of assistance. “Don’t be afraid my dears.” He soothed as he stepped forward and knelt down before them, making himself a lot less imposing. “My, my, it’s far too cold for you to be out here like this, and it looks like the wind may have gotten a bit rough with your hair poppet.” He tapped his lip with a black talon as he thought for a moment, “Hihi I know just the thing.” Reaching out he gently combed the young girl’s hair away from her face with his nails. Pulling the red ribbon free from his hat he tied up her hair in a ponytail to keep it out of her way. “There now, you look lovely dearie. Now let’s see what we can do about old man winter~.” He delighted in the giggle his comment coaxed from them while he removed his green scarf and placed it around her brother’s neck before moving his hands to his waist to untie his grey sash which he spread out like a blanket and wrapped around both of their shoulders. “There, is that better?”

  
The two children nodded, “Y-yes…thank you Mr.”

  
“My pleasure my dears.” He produced two bone-shaped biscuits from seemingly nowhere and handed them each one. “Now you two behave yourselves and be sure to fine some shelter before it gets dark, I believe there’s a nice woman at the end of that street that will help.” He pointed them in the right direction and patted them each on the head before standing to his full height again.

  
“We will.” “Thank you again!” the brother took the sister’s hand and they waved goodbye to him before they trotted off in their new makeshift blanket, munching their cookies as they headed to the street he had gestured towards.

  
The elder reaper waved back and smiled, watching them go before continuing on his way.

  
Grell stood in awe at the event that unfolded; the children had been the same that he had passed by earlier that day and paid little mind on his way to his assignment. “That was…so nice.” He whispered to himself. “But…but why bother? They might not even live that much longer.” He couldn’t comprehend, Shinigami were above humans and most simply did their job, taking the souls of the dead and ignoring the living unless forced to deal with them. The red-head was equally guilty of looking down upon such fleeting lives, most reapers were at one point or another, the only one he had known to bend that rule was Alan and the poor man only had a terminal illness to show for his compassion. Grim reapers were supposed to be indifferent, neutral, and yet the eldest and most experienced of them all whose belt of charms was a testament to heart break received from the painful loss of such momentary lives, was somehow the biggest exception. Trailing after the mortician Grell felt like he was almost on autopilot, drawn to try and understand the reasoning Undertaker had, what he saw in mortals that he did not. He continued to observe as the retired reaper gave up the last of his coin to the charity worker nearby and handed over his urn of cookies (which he was seemed to magically pull out of the sleeve of his robe) to the starving man who had lost all hope from before. The familiar sound of crying and the feeling of death in the air then reached him and Undertaker made his way to the alleyway where the crimson reaper’s last assignment had been located. He found the distraught young man still clutching his limp fiancé tightly, her cold, slowly stiffening frame molding itself into an eerie position from the way she was being held as he sobbed on her, his tattered clothing already soaked through from the snow. Undertaker’s smile evaporated from his expression and he approached the youth slowly, removing his oversized outer robe he draped the mantle over him lightly and placed a slender hand on his shoulder, “What happened lad?”

  
He jumped slightly at the sudden contact but looked back at the mortician with tearful eyes, “Lu-Lucile…I…I was going to buy her medicine, we were going to get married and…and…”

  
“Shh it’s alright,” he comforted him, “I’m sure she loved you dearly and I doubt such a lovely lady would want you to be so sad.”

  
“N-no…she did say…not to be. That I shouldn’t suffer be-because of her.” He sniffled, “But…”

  
“No buts now, she sounds like a very smart girl and I would take that advice if I were you chap. Death isn’t such a bad thing, she’s not hurting anymore and she’s become immortal through your memories and within your heart, don’t be sad for that. Immortality is something everyone seeks, and if you always hold onto her memory then you’ll give her that.”

  
He blinked, processing what he was told and slowly nodded as he fully grasped it, “You’re…very wise sir.”

  
Undertaker waved a hand and laughed, “I’m old as the hills boy, that’s just a side effect.”

  
The youth couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on his lips, though it quickly faded as he looked back at the one he had lost. “But…what do I do now?”

  
“Bring her by my shop lad; I’ll take care of her for free.”

  
His eyes widened so large they nearly fell out of his skull, “R-really? Th-Thank you so much!”

  
The elder nodded, “Of course, now let me help you escort the young lady there and I’ll make her all pretty again~.”

  
Grell witnessed the pair walk away from his perch, “Immortal through memories? That’s right; even we keep the memories preserved in the records at the library!” Sitting down on the edge of the roof he leaned back with his hands back behind him as he thought. “So then…humans are immortal like us after all, just in a different way…and if that’s true then…they’re not all that beneath us.” He stared after Undertaker as he carried his latest ‘guest’ towards his shop, her love following closely behind wearing the mortician’s outer robe to stave off the chill. “He found value in their short lives…” his eyes widened suddenly with realization, “That’s what the lockets are for then, not to mourn over loss but to give everlasting importance!” He purred in delight, “Oh Unny I may not always understand the reasons in your head but I think I understand your heart! Ah! Such a kind and noble soul, you cast off the blinders that we all wear along with your glasses and saw the bigger picture, and now you have opened my eyes also! Oh how blind I’ve been to the value of such fleeting mortals!” He clasped his hands together, “Ah you truly are special under all of that shaggy hair~ you send delicious shivers down my spine!” His speech of admiration was ended at that when Big Ben tolled again in the distance. Grell paused and checked his watch, his mouth falling open and shock bolting across his features at sight of the time. “8:00!? Oh no I lost track of time! I must not have heard the toll for the last hour!” He scrambled to his feet and hastily summoned his chainsaw, “I’m so late! William is going to be angry!” He used his death scythe to open a portal for himself, fleeing the mortal realm and appearing outside of the library in the reaper realm. He turned in his collections quickly, getting the necessary forms regarding them for William and himself, and then rushed back to dispatch. “Well, if he likes the gift I got him then maybe he won’t kill me…” he reasoned as he slipped into the headquarters building and into the main lobby. What he did not expect was the tip of a pruning pole to be there to meet him and he was forced to dive to the floor to avoid it from puncturing his precious face, a squeak escaping him when he landed on the ground. “W-Will!” he half whined, half shouted as he jumped up into a standing position again, “You really must stop doing that! I told you before its dangerous and-“

  
“Grell Sutcliff,” the stoic reaper interrupted, pausing only to pull his scythe back and use it to readjust his glasses, “You are one hour and 12 minutes late turning in your collections, explain yourself.”

  
“W-well um…” the red-head shuffled his foot a little and pulled an innocent

look. “I got a bit side tracked, I got my collections done early and then I found Unny and I wanted to see what he does for the holidays so I followed him.”  
“Good grief,” Will sighed, “extra time and the presence of the holidays does not give you the right to disregard your duty and stalk a legend.” Though he was equally curious and would have liked the opportunity to do the same he refused to allow that to become public knowledge by voicing it aloud.  
“Don’t be jealous Will~.” Grell giggled in a way that was very much like a lady. He sauntered up to him and leaned against the cold reaper, wrapping both of his arms around him, “I thought of you for Christmas first after all, I have something for you~!” he poked his chest with a red painted nail, earning an irritated eye twitch and a deep frown from the man.

  
“Sutcliff may I remind you that I am your boss and therefore will not accept gifts from you nor any of my other subordinates.”

  
“There’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t darling, I already checked.” Grell purred against him, proud of himself for having forethought enough to do a little research ahead of time incase William had pulled out that card.

  
“You did wha-“ the supervisor began only to be interrupted.

  
“You’re just afraid that if you accept it then all of the other girls will be lavishing you with gifts and attention~!” he backed away and produced a thin box in red wrapping paper adorned with a black bow from his pocket and held it out for him with both hands.

  
“That’s not the-“

  
“Don’t worry Will-dear we can keep this between us so that won’t happen.”

  
“You don’t seem to-“

  
“Oh come on Will live a little, you could afford to thaw out just for the holidays! Besides, I think you’ll like this and-“

  
“Grell Sutcliff!” William snapped, his tone harsh and unforgiving, causing the excited crimson reaper to flinch a little and look at him with an expression akin to that of a kicked puppy. Adjusting his glasses he lowered his voice down to a more reasonable volume though it was no less harsh. “I have no interest in celebrating any holiday regardless of what it is. Furthermore, I will not jeopardize our work relationship by encouraging the false hope you have that we will ever have a relationship beyond that.” He paused again, his tone finally evening out. “Last, as much as I appreciate the sentiment I do not accept gifts, it puts me in debt to those who give them in some way and that is a position I do not care to be placed in. Your obsession with the holidays has also put us further behind schedule, if you would like to make me happy in the future then please refrain from causing me additional overtime and complete your paperwork and collections in a timely manner.” He fixed his spectacles once more, “Good day Sutcliff.” He abruptly turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Grell behind wearing a stunned expression that slowly melted into hurt and finally anger.

  
As his rage and pain reached its peak he practically snarled, tears pricking his eyes while he shouted after the cold reaper. “Fine Will, fine, if that’s how you want to be then I’ll go back to Sebby! I’ll bet he can appreciate a gift from a lady! That makes you worse than a demon! You’re a horrible, unfeeling man!” Whirling around, his chainsaw roared in tune with his anger as he called it forth, tearing a gaping hole between the realms and storming through it onto a rooftop in the heart of London. He didn’t pause to see if the portal closed itself or not as he frantically dashed towards his predetermined destination, his tears spilling over and down his cheeks in droves of betrayal and heartache, blurring his already poor vision and chilling his skin with the exhale of winter’s breath.

  
At the harsh sound of the red scythe’s engine William turned just in time to see his colleague leave in an emotional flurry. “Good grief.” A sigh escaped him as he eyed the hastily slashed open gateway, further precious moments stolen from his tight schedule while he repaired the butchered exit, making sure it was closed seamlessly before it could be noticed by the mortals. “Even in his absence Sutcliff manages to make overtime for me.”

  
* * *

  
Sitting perched upon the Phantomhive rooftop Grell sniffled and wiped away the evidence of his sorrow onto the sleeve of his beloved red coat, the gift he had intended for William resting in his lap and his chainsaw lying on the shingled surface beside his right thigh. “Stupid Will,” he sniffled again, “it’s Christmas…he didn’t have to be so….why did he have to ruin everything? I was only a little late! It’s no reason to treat a lady that way!” pulling a handkerchief from his coat sleeve he blew his nose in a rather unladylike fashion. “All I ever wanted was for him to see me for the delicate flower that I am, for him to be my strong and handsome knight of romance and love! Is that so much to ask?” he angrily wiped his eyes again, looking down at the small package on his lap, “Though…I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, he always has to be a stick in the mud on holidays…” tearing the “to and from”, tag off of the small box he regarded it sadly, “But…now I…I’ll never get the chance to give it to him now …” His bottom lip quivered and he caught it between his sharp teeth to make it stop, ignoring the pain it caused as a sob rose up from his chest as he slowly lowered his head. Crumpling the paper tag in his gloved hand he held it out on his open palm, allowing the snow sparkled wind to carry it away into the abyss of the slowly encroaching night. The last light of the sun had all but faded away and the stars above were shimmering in a silent, lonely chorus that none would ever hear and could only hope to see when the veil of clouds relented their hold over the heavens. Grell tucked the small box into his coat pocket and drew his knees to his chest, hugging them close and resting his chin on top of them. He felt more droplets of warmed despair run down the sides of his face and fall down off of his chin to stain the material of his pants though he hardly paid it any mind as a wave of depression rose up from out of the shadows in hopes of swallowing the Shinigami whole. It was only the familiar shrill squeal of a certain blonde haired girl that brought him out of his miserable thoughts and to the reality at hand.

  
“Ah! Ciel you look soo cuuute~! I knew it would look good on you!”

  
A shiver ran up the red reaper’s spine, “What a terribly wretched noise!” He moaned, sliding down off of the roof he landed on the soft ground below in front of a window looking into the Phantomhive dining hall. Within, the guard dog himself was seated with his servants close by, who were hurriedly unwrapping packages with an endearing childlike enthusiasm. His bothersome fiancé fluttering about him not unlike a crazed moth does a flickering blaze, chattering on about the disturbingly adorable new hat she had eagerly placed upon his head and all the ‘trouble’ she went through to acquire it for him. _Ugh, that girl has absolutely no taste in fashion, even for the style of a brat like him._ Grell pouted to himself, leaning on the windowsill a bit as he watched the scene unfold before him. An excited gasp jumped from him and stars filled his dual iris eyes as the subject of his admiration strode into room no more than a moment later. _Ah, Sebas-chan~ just seeing you in my time of need sets my soul aflame again! Oh how I long to hold you tight in my arms as we cuddle on a sofa in front of a cozy fire, our bodies entwined together against the chill of winter and whispering words of love while we kiss with…with tongue!_ He clutched the windowsill tighter, leaning in close for a better look at the charming demon through the glass, taking care not to fog the surface and obscure his view. Sebastian was finely dressed and pristine as always, his footsteps across the marble floor were confident and full of purpose as per usual, he painted a picture of eerie perfection that all noticed but only the foolish dared to question. The only blotch upon his flawlessness was the odd, out of place package that he carried in his hands with purposeful caution, a very familiar package wrapped in simple brown paper and adorned with a large black ribbon. Grell could nearly feel the spark of recognition go off in his mind as he eyed the unsettling parcel. “That’s the same gift that Unny sent to the brat when I was following him earlier! Which means…” a wide, toothy grin formed on his tear-stained face, “I’ll actually get to see what’s inside~!”

  
“Young Master,” the demon bowed to the noble imp, “there appears to be one more, this just arrived for you.” He handed over the gift carefully, hovering nearby as though he feared what form of monstrosity might see fit to claw its way out from beneath the wrapping.

  
“Another?” the young lord’s visible eye blinked in confusion, “Who is it from?” he asked rhetorically, taking the package from the butler’s hands before checking the small tag attached to the ribbon and reading aloud. “Merry Christmas Earl, from Undertaker.” A small frown tugged at his lips, “He could have gone without drawing a skull and a tombstone on it.”

  
“Undertaker?” Lizzy’s porcelain skin turned a shade lighter, “Isn’t he that creepy guy in town who likes laughing a lot?”

  
“Yeah,” Ciel nodded, “He’s a…associate of mine.”

  
“It seems your prediction that sending you a gift would become a yearly tradition for him was correct young master.”

  
“So it would seem.” He tugged the ribbon loose, letting it fall to the table as he unwrapped the simple paper sheathe from the box.

  
Satisfied that the package did not contain something dangerous, Sebastian bowed and excused himself from the room. Ciel paid him little mind, making a half-hearted gesture of dismissal with his hand before lifting the lid off of the box and he and Lizzy peered into it curiously. Contained within was a set of black, custom made, knee-length, high heeled boots that would undoubtedly grant the short noble an extra inch that his current heeled shoes could not possibly provide him. Positioned around them was an assortment of wrapped, sugary treats ranging from chocolate to skull and bone shaped cookies. The little Earl looked over the boots with admiration, noting the little skull on the side of each one and the way they were designed to match his usual style, as his eyes roamed from them over the various sweet snacks his lips slowly quirked upwards into a tiny smile and he picked up a bag of gingerbread bones, opening it and filling the room instantly with the alluring aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger. Lizzy closed her eyes in pleasure at the scent “Oh, they smell heavenly and homemade too! How nice!” she gratefully accepted the cookie Ciel handed her, nibbling off the top part of the bone shape, her bright green eyes widening and a delighted sound escaping her. “Ahh soo good! Even if they’re not cute they’re very lovely!”

  
Ciel blinked and bit into his own, his expression being painted in a fresh coat of surprise, “Th-they are heavenly…even…better…then Sebastian’s” he whispered in a barely audible tone as if the very words were taboo, making a mental note to accept the creepy mortician’s tea cookies the next time he was offered them.

  
Just outside the window Grell chuckled to himself at the bratty Earl’s reaction. “Oh Unny, if only you could see his face! I don’t know why you would do something like that for the little tyrant but at least it was amusing! Ah, but where has my Sebas-chan gone? I want another peak at him before I go~.”  
“Pardon my interruption.” A sensual voice spoke in a smirking tone behind the crimson death god, forcing tension into his frame and an unpleasant shiver through him with a sudden twinge of fear. Grell slowly turned to see the hell servant standing over him with a dangerously pleasant smile plastered on his immaculate visage and a handful of silverware perched between his white--gloved fingers. “Oh Sebby you gave me a fright!” the reaper was quick to latch himself onto the demon’s arm, leaning in close and batting his eyelashes at him. “I was just nearby and I thought I would pay you a visit seeing as it’s the holidays~ and I can’t think of a better way to spend them Then. With. You~.” He lightly poked his shoulder as he accentuated the last three words, a Cheshire grin curving along his mouth, exposing his shark-like teeth.

  
A sigh escaped the butler as he effortlessly pulled his arm out of the reaper’s grip and stepped sideways in one fluid motion, allowing the flamboyant redhead to fall face first into the snow. “My master has ordered that there be no interruptions tonight,

therefore…” he cracked his knuckles meaningfully, his sadistically charming smile returning in the process, “I will have to ask you to leave the premises.”  
“W-wait!” Grell sat up on his knees in the snow, ignoring the frost clinging to his hair and features. Reaching into his coat pocket he withdrew the small box that had been intended for William in hopes of receiving a second and hopefully more successful chance. “U-um…Merry Christmas Sebby.” He offered the gift to the demon with both hands, a hopeful gleam in his eyes as he batted them again with his own charming smile present.

  
The hell spawn quirked a shapely brow at the gesture, before sighing again, placing his fingertips against his forehead, “Oh? As a reaper I thought you would be knowledgeable about demons enough to know that we have no interest in holidays that celebrate good will and cheer.”

  
“But…but surely you have a little room for fun in your life hmm?” he scooted closer to him, gaze focused on Sebastian’s face with the admiration of a loving pet.

  
“As I have previously stated,” he stretched out a gloved hand to seize the crimson Shinigami by the back of his collar, lifting him with ease like a disobedient kitten, “my body and soul belong solely to my master and his purpose until the time comes when his wishes are fulfilled and I devour his soul, there is no room in my life for another and such trivial gestures of gift giving are of little importance to me.” He strode to the entry of the expansive courtyard as he spoke these words, stopping only to open the double sided gates. “You are greatly wasting your efforts on one such as me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” his smile widened and his eyes closed as he dropped Grell briefly before following up with a swift, well placed kick that sent him hurtling through the air and into a nearby snow bank outside of the Phantomhive grounds, “I must return to my master and Lady Elizabeth.” He shut the gates fluidly with nary a sound, turning on his heel and walking away from the buried reaper without so much as a glance over his shoulder as he slowly returned to the uninviting manor house.

  
A squeak jumped out of Grell’s throat as he landed roughly in the enormous bank of snow head first. Prying himself out from the frozen prison he looked on to see the demon leaving at a steady pace. “Sebas-chan wait!” he called after him, but the Phantomhive servant would neither look back, nor pause. As his gaze fell to the box in his hands he noticed that it had been crushed by the impact, the carefully placed wrapping paper torn, the bow askew and the cardboard slowly soaking through with melting snow. His heart clenched at the sight and tears once again pricked at the corners of his eyes when he felt it begin to crumble within his chest. “Oh Sebby, how cruel!” he held back a sob, “I…I just wanted to this Christmas to be different, to be special and to share it with someone I love! Now…now everything is truly ruined!” Forcing himself to his feet his mouth curved into a pointed snarl, “To…to hell with the holidays then, I don’t care anymore!” he shouted viciously towards the mansion and the back of the hell spawn who disappeared inside during his tirade. With heaving breath from effort made in choking back his sobs Grell clutched the former gift tightly in his fist and hurled it into the closed iron gates, the battered container flying open and spilling out the black and silver cufflinks that he had picked out special for Will and had hoped Sebastian would have also liked; they fell to the ground, shimmering against the winter crystals in the low oil lamp light. Abruptly he whipped around and fled the scene, his hands covering his face to stave off the tears as he ran blindly into the streets of London, paying little heed to those few he collided with or tripped over, his reaper abilities allowed him to keep his balance and knock down anything or anyone that got in his way without needed effort.

  
He ran until his sorrow overwhelmed him and his legs trembled and threatened to buckle beneath his feminine frame. He looked up briefly, recognizing the street he stood upon but giving no effort into figuring out the exact location as he seated himself on the front stoop of the nearest building and finally let go completely as he began to sob bitterly and uncontrollably hard in the shadow of the lonely night. By this time the errands of the busy mortals were concluded, and most if not all were finally with their families and friends, dinner steamed with irresistible fragrances on their most expensive china and warmth glowed brightly in their hearts as they said grace around their tables and conversed with those that they held most dear. Yet outside these closed off, merry abodes, only the forgotten remained, the Lady of Winter dancing before them to her twisted and self-orchestrated tango, the wind whipping harshly off of her flowing white skirts and howled of promised misery as a veil of unforgiving cold, beneath which Grell was truly alone, enfolded the area in woven fabrics of utterly black despair. The sounds of sniffles, whines and the occasional whimper seemed to echo so loudly in the quiet darkness of the street and Grell’s own mind that he could not make out the sounds of the slowly approaching hooves and wagon wheels upon the icy cobblestone road.

  
* * *

  
Undertaker steered his mule and wagon around the nearby icy corner with care. The wagon was empty aside from the dirt and snow covered spade resting in the back, the blade of which was neatly cloven in half. He had finished burying the body of the young woman Lucile Evans only a short time ago, the frozen ground of little concern for a Shinigami whose strength allowed for it to be dug through with ease even in the coldest of weather. Her fiancé, who the ancient had identified as James Bower, had been both surprised and eternally grateful at his offer to lay her to rest for free in the dead of winter and the mortician hadn’t been able to resist chuckling at the look on the young man’s face when he plowed through the hardened soil as though it were merely sand on a white summer beach, his shovel had given out before he did. He snickered to himself at the memory as he continued down the street, more than eager to return to the quiet peace of his shop for dinner and a long awaited hot beverage to take the chill out of his bones. Though his evening, like all others throughout each year was to be spent alone in the gloom of his funeral parlor he fully intended to make the most out of his holiday, for all around him joy emanated from houses of nobles and working class alike, the spirits of the dead were resting with ease and snow was beginning to gently drift from the heavens in large puffy flakes as the wind began to slowly die down into a soft, caressing breeze. How could such a thing not bring a smile to his face and lighten his heart? He wondered.

  
Rounding another, nearby corner he was less than a mile from home, already anticipating the mouthwatering flavor of a freshly baked batch of his favorite cookies and the feel of a crackling hearth when a splash of unexpected color against the dull grey of the London canvas captured his hidden gaze. “Hmm?” he recognized the flashy red reaper immediately and even at that distance and without his glasses he could tell that something was wrong by the way that Grell was seated, her head bowed low with knees pulled in close to her body and the elder’s smile fell from his face as soon as he understood she was crying. _Oh the poor dear is quite upset; now that just won’t do, not at all. Heehee, I wonder if I can cheer her up a bit..._ Steering his wagon closer and bringing it to a steady halt in front of the distraught young reaper Undertaker’s smile returned in a gentle, sincere light, “My my, a lovely lady shouldn’t be in tears on such an auspicious occasion…”

  
Grell flinched and looked up quickly with reddened, tearful eyes to the old mortician smiling down at her. His outer robe was missing, having been given to James, as was his sash, leaving him in the form fitting tunic that he wore beneath, his unique hat sat next to him on the wagon rather than atop his head. “Unny…” she blinked in surprise, sniffling and wiping her nose with her damp and half-frozen handkerchief. “What…What are you doing out here?”  
“Heehee, I just returned from burying my last guest for the holidays.” The elder grinned, “Pneumonia…though I’m sure you already know, you had a hand in it didn’t you my dear? It certainly looked like your style of work.”

  
“Oh, her…” she suddenly recalled the scene she’d witnessed between the elder and the grief-stricken mortal, in which he had offered to take care of her latest victim, “Yes that was me,” she wiped her nose again on the soiled cloth, “a horrible reaping for a horrible day I suppose.” She sighed, “After today I…I don’t…” she clenched her shark teeth together, her eyes watering anew and fists balling tightly. “I don’t want to care about holidays anymore!

  
Undertaker’s smile faltered, he stepped down off of the wagon, pulling his own handkerchief out of his pocket and offering it to her as a replacement, “And just what happened to turn you against Christmas of all things love? You’re such a cheerful and passionate young lady it certainly can’t have been a small matter.”

  
She accepted the offered cloth and tucked her own in her pocket before drying her eyes with his, “It wasn’t…William and…and Sebby were so cruel...”

  
He moved to sit next to her, wrapping a lean, yet strong arm around her shoulders, “It’s okay to get it off your chest dearie, the least a retired old fool like me can do is listen.” He gave her a silly grin that educed a giggle from her as well as a small smile of her own that made the elder’s heart beat faster. “Well…I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Grell leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she began her tale. “I finally found the perfect gift for Will after shopping for a whole week after every one of my shifts. They were beautiful silver and black cufflinks that were so stylish and still sensible just like him. I was going to give them to him today after my reapings were done but then you-“she abruptly halted her speech with a sudden gasp, realizing that if she continued then there would be no choice but to reveal that she had been essentially stalking the poor man. Just how would he take that? Would he be angry? She wondered as she stared up at the spot where his eyes were supposed to be.

  
Undertaker tilted his head to the side curiously; a flicker of bright green showing through the curtain of his bangs before they fell in place and hid it again, “…Me?”

  
A lump formed in Grell’s throat and she gave a hard swallow to push it down before continuing, “Y-you…sort of caught my attention on my way back. I saw those kids throw snowballs at you.” She curled a lock of hair around her finger nervously.

  
The mortician cackled with delight, “It was quite amusing to scare the daylights out of those little hoodlums heehee~”

  
The red head was unable to hold back the snarl that burst forth at the memory, “Well I don’t think it’s funny! I don’t know how you can be so patient with them! I nearly cut them to shreds when that rock hit you!”

  
The ancient’s expression turned to show the wisdom beneath the mad man, despite his eyes being hidden she could tell that was the case by his knowing smile and the deeper, more sensual voice that he spoke in that seemed to be his true vocal tone that was just as concealed as his eyes and sent thrilling shivers through her whenever she had the privilege of hearing it. “That’s just it dearie, if they get a rise out of me then they’re sure to do it again, if I creep them out and scare them off they’re unlikely to return for quite some time.” His voice blended back into his mortician’s facade at that moment. “Although~ I’m flattered such a pretty lady is concerned for my well-being heehee.”

  
Grell felt her cheeks flare up with intense heat that certainly was not the result of the frigid weather. “Well…it…it was no big deal…” she covered quickly, though his words did not escape her attention in the slightest. _He…called me pretty._

  
“Oh? I think it rather is,” He grinned “so few people care about spooky ol’ Undertaker after all~.” He wiggled his fingers in a creepy manor in order to emphasize his point.

  
The redhead couldn’t help but giggle, “Silly old man, surely you-“a sudden fright jumped out of her as the mule hitched to Undertaker’s wagon brayed loudly in protest of the unforgiving flurry swirling around them.

  
“Oh dear,” The mortician brought a clawed finger to his lips, “I had better get Maggie out of the cold before the poor girl freezes.” He stood up from his seat and bowed to the younger reaper with a fluid grace, “My lady, would you do me the honor of joining me for Christmas dinner? It would pain my old heart greatly to know you were spending the holiday alone and out in this weather.”

  
Grell blinked in surprise, her dual colored eyes widening as she brought the cloth tissue down from her nose again, “You…you want **me** to join you?”

  
“Of course,” he purred, “I can offer only a few simple comforts but the tea is hot and the biscuits are fresh.” He offered a pale, black nailed hand to her “Heehee, I would do my very best with dinner as well~. I can think of no better person to share it with.”

  
The red reaper’s blush only darkened at his comment, her delicate lips curving up into a grateful smile as her tear stained eyes searched the silver haired man’s half-face in wonder of the kindness he was willing to show her when others never would; others who would sooner use their hands to shove her away then to beckon her forward, sooner issue punishment then offer reward.

  
_A…strong and handsome knight of romance…_

  
“I…I’d be honored.” She slipped her gloved hand into his, the feeling of his slender fingers curving around her own causing a feeling of delight to run down the length of her spine.

  
Undertaker’s smile only grew, “The honor is mine Grell.” He helped her up onto the wagon seat before climbing up himself and taking hold of the reigns.  
“Oh my, you’re such a gentleman Unny! At least someone knows how to treat a lady right!”

  
The mortician chuckled “I wouldn’t dream of treating you any other way my dear, though speaking of I believe Maggie rudely interrupted your tale,” he gave a light snap to the reigns to set the aforementioned mule in motion, “would you care to tell me the rest on the way?”

  
Grell thought it over, already talking to the ancient had made her feel better then she had before, Undertaker had a calming presence to him and his willingness to listen without judgment made her feel safe and trusting, discussing the rest of the evening’s events could very well take the last of the sting out of the wounds William and Sebastian had caused. She also felt as though she owed the man the remainder of the story for his kind invitation to dinner and the fact she had stalked him around London for almost two hours. “Sure,” she nodded “Um...let’s see…well, after you dealt with those kids I noticed that you…”

  
* * *

  
Undertaker listened politely to the entirety of Grell’s account of that day, making appropriate replies and nods though never once stopping or interrupting her. A light dusting of pink formed on the crests of his pale cheeks when he discovered that he had been the subject of the redhead’s free time, though a pang of guilt gripped his chest shortly after when it was also revealed to be the reason she had been late turning in her collections. Her story drew to a somber close as the gloomy little funeral parlor came into view, “…and that’s when you found me.” She concluded with a sigh. She noted with some concern that the mortician had been nearly silent the entire way back, though whether out of annoyance at her behavior or sheer courtesy she could not tell though she greatly feared the former. _What if he hates me for what I did? Will he send me away just like everyone else I get close to?_

  
“Hmm, I see.” Undertaker spoke at last when Grell’s lengthy pause indicated the end of her speech, the tone of his voice was oddly serious for him which only served to heighten the younger reaper’s anxiety. She opened her mouth to apologize profusely for her actions when his next line left her words halted on her tongue and her expression not unlike that of a fish. “I’m sorry to have caused you to be late love,” He brought the wagon to a halt in front of his shop, “though I’m flattered you’d take interest in the mundane life of an old codger like me, it was never my intention to ruin your evening.”

  
Grell could hardly believe what she was hearing, _I…I stalked him all day and he’s the one apologizing? And what does he mean ‘never his intention’? It’s not like he-_ Her eyes widened in shock and she stared at the man before her suspiciously, “You…you knew I was following you?”

  
Undertaker shrugged benignly, “I suspected **someone** was following me, I didn’t know it to be you dear. I didn’t see it as a threat and so I simply went about my day as if nothing had changed.”

  
The redhead huffed haughtily and crossed her arms in a pout that the silver reaper couldn’t help but find a bit cute. “But I was really stealthy! How did you know…er…suspect, me at all?”

  
He chuckled, “Well~ the first clue was the light snoring I heard on my way out of the graveyard…” the appalled look on Grell’s face made him laugh harder, giggling in his seat like a loon until she looked about ready to kill him at which point he put his hands up in a placatory gesture, “Not that I’d ever reveal such a thing, a gent never speaks that way about a lady after all~.” He tilted his head slightly and offered her an apologetic smile and Grell could imagine he was making big puppy eyes at her from under his bangs. With another huff she waved her hand in dismissal “You’re forgiven you old fool now stop making that face and tell me what else gave me away.”

  
His widened grin held a hint of triumph to it that made Grell’s eyebrow twitch but she brushed it off since he was respectful of her gender preference and at least trying to be decent, she knew his humor was a loose cannon waiting to go off, much like her temper was and he’d been tolerant of her, it was only fair she show the same in return. Nevertheless, Undertaker figured it was in his best possible interest to continue before she grew further irritated with him, “Heehee, well I briefly felt the presence of another Shinigami outside of the post office…”

  
“Oh darn!” she hissed, “I knew I was too close! But I wanted to see what was going on inside.”

  
“To your credit I only detected you for a moment~; you were very quick to get out of my perceptive range. That was when I suspected I was being followed, but I thought little of it at the time, although now I wish I had looked into it as I may not have caused your tardiness getting back to that blinkered arse Willy if I had.”

  
Grell giggled at his word choice, she enjoyed when the occasional working class slang slipped into his speech. Though technically a noble by underworld standards the elder’s profession placed him at what was often called the ‘lower end of town’ where contact with cockney workers of all trades was naturally a common occurrence and she took notice that both ends of society had influenced the man, as though he’d been caught at the intersection of two very different rivers. “It’s alright,” she smiled a little sadly, “I think that William would have acted the way he did whether I was late or not, and Sebby may be a hottie for a demon but he’s always been so cruelly against my affection.”

  
Undertaker frowned at that, his shapely brows furrowing beneath his natural veil, “It’s a terrible shame that they cannot appreciate you for the beautiful soul that you are my dear,” he hopped down off of the wagon, offering a pale hand to her, “they are either completely blind or truly foolish if they’re unable to see it.”

  
Grell blinked, finding herself blushing for the second time that night, tears welled up in her eyes though this time it was not out of sorrow that they formed. She took his hand delicately and stepped down off of the wagon, no sooner did her booted feet touch the cobblestone rode that she flung her arms around his scarred throat and hugged him tightly, “Thank you! No one’s…no one’s ever said I was beautiful since before I became a full reaper!”  
The mortician went a bit stiff at the sudden embrace, it was a rare moment in his life since his retirement that he had physical contact with others, he could hardly remember the last time he had been given a hug, and if he recalled correctly the last he had received had been a final goodbye. He smiled a little awkwardly and carefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders, “That’s an awfully long time pet; you deserve to be told so every day and nothing less.”

  
She lifted her face to gaze upon his; “You’re so kind to me Unny…” an involuntary shiver ran through her frame as the wind harshly cracked its whip against their bodies again. The reaction to the cold didn’t escape the Undertaker’s notice as she was firmly held in his arms. He pulled back a bit reluctantly, and smiled gently down at her, “Let’s get you inside before you freeze out here,” his signature grin returned, “heehee, as lovely as you would look as a statue I think I prefer the real thing~.”

  
Grell’s blush darkened further though she nodded in agreement, wanting very much to be out of the wind and snow by now, she had had her fill of it for the season already and dreaded the upcoming months that were also a part of its vast domain in the year. She followed him up to the door which he opened for her, the shop bell making a cheerful sound as if to greet them as the entrance swung open, revealing the darkened interior of the funeral parlor beyond it, lit dimly by a single gas lamp that struggled against the relentless siege of the shadows that encompassed the room to allow the minimal required lighting that would keep one from tripping over the currently empty caskets that were strewn about the floor. “Go ahead in dear,” Undertaker pointed to a door located at the far end of the shop, “head through there and make yourself at home, I’ll just put Maggie away and be up in a moment.” He ushered her over the threshold and lightly closed the door behind the red reaper, smiling gleefully to himself as he tended to the protesting mule and wagon.

  
The redhead flinched slightly when the door closed more loudly then she thought it would. Glancing at her surroundings she stepped further into the room, carefully stepping over an oak coffin in the process. She could hear the distinct sounds of Undertaker speaking to the beast of burden outside as well as the sounds of hooves and cart wheels as he lead them away from the building, likely to the paid stables where they could more easily be kept. Emptiness crawled along the back of her spine and dripped down with slimy tendrils to settle in the pit of her gut when the distant sounds died away and she found herself completely alone in the parlor for the very first time. Her eyes scanned the room nervously as she made her way towards the door, but her anxiety was rapidly suppressed as she took in her surroundings, noting the little decorative changes he had made to the place for the holidays. Silver garland was wrapped around the organ jars sitting on the shelves and adorned every coffin to be seen, a big red bow had been placed on the head of the anatomy mannequin with beads around its neck. Poinsettias were scattered about on shelves amongst the garland and jars, in a vase on his desk and in the mouth of a skull sitting on the other side of the desk. Although the display would cause those amongst mortal souls to cringe in disturbed fear, for a Shinigami and an individual like Grell it only served to make her snicker and admire how the ancient had tried to make his shop look semi decent for the occasion, there was only so much one could do with organs and coffins after all, and she found his attempts endearing. Upon reaching the door he had pointed out she grasped the knob with a gloved hand and opened it slowly, finding that the space that lay beyond was no more than a small landing that connected two sets of stairs, one heading to the shadowed basement that no doubt was Undertaker’s workspace as she had not seen any examination tables in the main shop. The other set of stairs headed upwards to the second floor of the building, which she could only guess was his living space. _Hmm, I guess I never really gave the idea of Unny living here much thought but if he does it makes sense that he wouldn’t live in the store front…even if he does sleep in the coffins_.

  
She proceeded with caution in her ascension up the flight, discovering another door at the top she pushed it open and slipped over the threshold into the mortician’s living quarters. As expected his home exhibited the same macabre décor as the shop did, though unlike the store front no cobwebs were present and the area was spotlessly clean and slightly better lit then downstairs. The rooms were small, the kitchen and living room having no doors and few walls, they would have merged into one space were it not for the few short supporting walls that designated the areas as separate. She eyed the unusual, near open plan, design curiously; it had only recently become popular and usually did not include the kitchen as one of the more open areas though she attributed that to Undertaker’s bizarre taste in design. Looking further into the space she spotted a tiny hallway with four separate doors that she could only guess lead to the bathroom, bedroom and two extra that she assumed might be a guest bedroom and a storage space. The whole of the ancient’s quarters was no larger than the shop downstairs, yet he seemed to have fit a good deal in the limited area available to him without making it feel overcrowded.

  
Grell stepped into the living room, removing his beloved red coat and hung it on a nearby rack; the room had little furniture present, no more than a couch and a chair. The scarcity of furniture and wall hangings seemed to be a theme throughout the place which subsequently contributed to the absence of the crowded feeling. Despite the bare quarters, the elder’s humble home had been decorated for Christmas just like the shop, adorned with black ribbons, silver garland, poinsettia flowers and morbid baubles shaped like lilies, skulls and bones. She took note of the fact that the old mortician had no tree to speak of, instead having set up and decorated an array of sotoba of differing sizes that had been glued and fitted together into a similar shape. Looking to the fireplace, however, she did see a black stocking with skulls embroidered on it hanging from a hook on the mantle that brought a grin to her face and made her chuckle again. “Oh Unny you silly man! Will wonders never cease with you darling?” Turning her attention to the kitchen her grin transformed into a smirk, “Alright you old fox let’s see where you bake all of those cookies you’re so fond of.” She trotted into the kitchen, a new excitement building up in her that took the place of her previously present sorrow. The redhead had considered herself lucky that she was able to witness the mortician’s activities in town on the holiday, it had given her a much desired look into his life that he kept so expertly hidden away, now, however, that she was allowed to explore his private quarters and locate further juicy clues into his secrets she felt like a child set loose in a sweetshop. “Today wasn’t so bad after all!” she whispered to herself as she looked over Undertaker’s kitchen. It was the only room she had seen thus far that hinted at the amount of wealth he truly had. Though he was averse to charging coin for his services she knew that he did on the occasion when a customer treated him unkindly or failed to make him so much as giggle and while the job of a mortician was considered low class it could in fact make one quite a tasty sum. _He’s actually a noble too,_ she thought, _because of his underworld work._ Those facts did indeed show in his kitchen, which was up to date on the latest cookware and sported counters of black marble which was all but unheard of as wood was the most popular choice of that age, stone was usually reserved for only the wealthiest and even then it was often unseen. The cupboards and pantry were hand crafted from mahogany wood and upon opening one she discovered the image of a skull with a U beneath it burned into the inside of the door that made her stare in wonder. _He built these himself…?_ Her gaze ran over the flawless cupboards and then roved along the pantry door in awe; she then recalled just how nice most of his coffins were when the average mortician in this area of London rarely buried a body in little more than a box made of pine. “Oh, my Under-darling is quite the wood carver! I had no idea he had hobbies other than poking corpses!” she wiggled in delight of her discovery, eyeing the stove and seeing the tea kettle already there with water in it waiting to be heated, “I should start that before he gets back, it’s only fitting that a lady shows her appreciation for her silver knight.” She started the stove to boil the water before stepping out of the room to continue her self-made tour.

  
When her eyes fell on the remaining doors a new surge of devious excitability burst in her chest, “Oooh I’m going to find out so much about that handsome freak~!” she bounded down the small hallway and stopped at the first door on her left, opening it slowly she was pleased it was the master bedroom. “It’s intruding a little but I’m sure he won’t mind.” With that she stepped in, taking in a sudden breath at the dark beauty that was the room. The chosen wood again was mahogany and was set against a theme of black and silver. A four poster bed with black silk sheets and pillow cases that had silver patterns rested against the wall in the middle of the room and was flanked by matching night stands on either side. The closet stood on the far side of the room against the same wall as the bed was and the dresser was across from the end of the bed. The room sported the only window that she had seen on the building so far and it was positioned on the back wall and veiled in thick black curtains that suffocated any chance of light slipping through. Resting on the floor near where she had entered and close to the right hand night stand sat a large, open black coffin with silver handles and accents that had dark red silk for its lining and a pillow of the same color within. She admired the blood red color with stars in her eyes. _Maybe he does have good taste, how absolutely gorgeous!_ Her attention drifted back to the bed and she admired its elegant appearance, stepping closer she knelt down to get a better look at the wood, finding the same symbol branded into it as she had on the cupboards earlier. _That confirms it then, he made most of his own furniture! Hey and if he has a bed how come he sleeps in a coffin!?_

  
“Heehee, find something you like my dear?”

  
“Aaaaahhh!” She screamed and jumped to her feet, almost hitting her head on the bed frame in the process. Whirling around she stared at the stealthy mortician with a look of terror on her features that made him erupt in a fit of laughter that crumpled him into a pile on the floor.

  
“Oh you…you horrible lunatic you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  
“W-well you’re in the right place for it love! Geeheehee! Ahahaha!” He fell into another fit of giggles, a thin trail of saliva running down his chin as he hugged his sides in pleasured agony.

  
Grell huffed in annoyance, “Its rude to laugh at a lady you know!” she kicked his boot lightly, putting her hands on her hips but having a difficult time keeping a pouty face when she was unable to find him anything less than adorable while he curled up on the floor with the biggest innocent looking grin on his face as if he were the happiest man alive, his bangs only adding a shaggy dog like quality to the image that forced her to smile too. “You’re like a big shaggy dog that just got a treat, you know that?”

  
Undertaker covered his mouth with his sleeve as he recovered and rose to his feet, the occasional chuckle slipping out still. “But I did just get a treat, heehee laughter is even better than cookies!” At that moment the tea kettle whistled in announcement of the boiled water and Undertaker’s hidden gaze turned toward the door, “Ah you started the tea, thank you dearie, but you’re a guest here, you shouldn’t have to work.”

  
The younger reaper shrugged, “You were so nice to invite me I want to help out a little to repay you.”

  
“Nonsense,” he smiled gently, “I invited you because I wanted to, and your presence is payment enough love. It’s not every century a pretty lady wants to spend time with me.”

  
Grell’s blush returned and she shoved his arm lightly, “You’re just saying that.”

  
“Not at all, you’re a vision m’dear, truly.” He purred, “Come I’ll pour us some tea and start on our dinner.” He motioned for her to follow as he made his way back to his kitchen.

  
She blinked for a second before squealing with delight and following with a spring in her step, “Oh you are the most frustratingly charming gentlemanly rude person I have ever met!”

  
He paused and turned to face her, a look of what she assumed to be surprise on his face before he giggled, “My my, I’ve never heard that one before…I hope that was a compliment love but either way I’m flattered.”

  
“It was darling I love that about you!” she wiggled into one of the two seats he had at his small dining table.

  
“Well that’s good to hear.” Another snicker escaped him as he prepared the tea, “Do you take cream or sugar?”

  
“Just sugar please.” She smiled, giving the kitchen another once over. “So you really make your own furniture? It’s beautiful.”

  
“Yes I do,” his grin seemed to carry a certain artist’s pride with it now, “I often have extra wood from making coffins and I wanted to see what else I could do. I started carving quite a bit actually. If I ever need to change my profession I may try carpentry, though I hope that doesn’t happen, I love my job you see.” He opened an urn of cookies and set it on the table before offering Grell her drink.

  
“You certainly seem to. Thank you.” She took her tea from him when he held it out to her and picked up a cookie from the urn. Before when she had been there she had been far too nervous and disturbed by his act that she hadn’t tried them; though now that he was making her dinner she thought it only polite and wise to see what sort of chef he was. Tentatively she took a bite of the delicate shortbread bone, her eyes widening behind her red spectacles as a buttery combination of cookie, vanilla and cinnamon spread across her tongue. “These are delicious!”

  
His grin went wide again, showing off his pearly teeth, “Thank you it’s an honor to hear that love.” He took a sip of his own tea before pulling his hair back into a ponytail, washing his hands and starting on their meal. The two of them chatted about nothing in particular while Grell watched in awe of his cooking skills. He seemed to have a similar level of competence for culinary work as Sebastian and she secretly wondered what would happen if the two of them had a contest. She caught herself watching his long fingers glide over his task, the black talons he called fingernails not hindering him at all. The kitchen was beginning to smell heavenly in no time though a feeling of guilt was starting to paw at the edges of her mind like a cat at the window that was caught in the rain. “Unny is there something I can help with? I feel so silly just sitting here waiting. I’ll admit that I can’t really cook but I could assist.”

  
“Hmm…” He looked over his shoulder at her, “Alright~ buuuut only if you want to, as I said you’re a guest here, I shouldn’t be putting you to work.”

  
“Oh I don’t mind!” Grell sprang to her feet and waltzed over to his side, “what do you want me to do?”

  
“That depends on what you’re comfortable doing.” He snickered, “You said you don’t really cook?”

  
“Well…I can make eggs…and pancakes but not round ones. Oh and um…salad, I make a salad to die for and don’t you dare laugh!” She pointed accusingly at the loony madman, suspecting he was already holding back snickers.

  
Undertaker politely refrained from allowing his laughter to escape him, he, after all, knew that fun and games were well and good until feelings were hurt and the last thing he wanted was to upset the reaper he had desired to share an evening with for so very long. He instead made a zip motion across his smirking lips before speaking, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” he tilted his head and swayed his hips to the side in a goofily submissive way, “If you can make salad then you must be good with vegetables. It would be a big heeelp if you would cut some up for me while the chicken bakes and I start preparing dessert~.” He made a gesture to the cutting board where awaiting vegetables and a knife beckoned.

  
Grell followed the motion with her eyes and spotted them, grinning, “I can do that darling! I’ll cut them to shreds no problem!” she made the death sign and sauntered over to the counter, picking up the knife.

  
“Heehee, no doubt you caaan~.” He pulled a bowl out of a cabinet, “Just be careful dearie you don’t want to end up like me.” He pointed to the scar that encircled his pinkie finger.

  
The younger reaper couldn’t help but laugh, “I don’t believe for a moment that’s what happened to you Unny, but all the same I’ll be careful, a respectable woman can’t have marred fingers you know.” She picked up a carrot, cutting it carefully into equal sized ringlets.

  
“Indeed not.” He agreed, fishing in his pantry for a block of chocolate. The two continued their conversation as they worked side by side, their dinner taking shape and Grell assisting with small things all the while. Undertaker found himself loving and treasuring each and every moment with her, the banter between them came so easily and the red reaper’s sense of humor and cleverness held his attention like a vice. Through his protective veil of hair he was able to steal glances at her in secret, admiring her rare beauty that he was truly shocked others couldn’t see. He admired her long red hair above all else, the vivid color and silky appearance making his fingers itch to run through the strands. Though he wasn’t the only one stealing glances, he had noticed she was pilfering her fair share of them as well, the look she gave him when she did making his heart pound hard against his ribs and he couldn’t help the blush that graced his cheeks or the slight regret he felt for his choice in tight pants when he rose up from checking in the oven to find her staring at his butt. Never had he been so grateful for his pale skin and long hair as she hadn’t noticed his embarrassment, or at least, if she had, she was kind enough not to mention it.

  
The time seemed to pass by all too quickly as though driven on by the sound of their laughter and growing joy. As the curtain was drawn on the cooking process the silver mortician released his mane from the pony tail and danced around the table as he set it, humming a merry carol all the while. Grell watched him with delight; she recognized that song from a previous Christmas when she had gone with the human carolers around London in a mortal disguise. “…Isn’t that the 12 days of Christmas?”

  
“My lady knows her carols. I didn’t think you’d recognize a little mortal ditty like that.” He handed her an empty plate, keeping one for himself and setting it on the table at one of the two places.

  
“I did a little caroling with some humans last Christmas so I learned a few of them.” she copied him with her own plate at the other side of the table.  
“Oh, that must have been lots of fun!” he resumed his odd dancing, an idea coming to him as he did so and soon he began to sing. “On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me~ 12 rotting corpses~.”

  
She was about to join in with the drummers drumming when her jaw fell open at his morbid change of tune, “Unny!” she giggled, “That’s not how it goes!”

  
“Aaand why not? Why should we conform to the average? That’s just boring!” he grinned wide, pulling the silverware out of a drawer as he danced by it, swaying his hips elegantly and continued his alternate carol. “11 dolls a walking~”

  
Grell covered her mouth with her hand to hide her snickering and tried to keep a look of appall on her face to no avail with the combination of his humor and the way he moved his hips distracting her from pretending to be scandalized. It was then she noticed he was eying her expectantly. “W-what?” her cheeks went as crimson as her coat, thinking he’d caught her watching his body.

  
“Well dear? Why don’t you come up with the next line?”

  
“O-oh that…M-me? Um…o-kay…” she racked her brain quickly, “10…10 spades a digging!” she called out, hoping dearly that he didn’t mock her for her likely poor attempt to add to the tune.

  
“Heehee! I like that!” he surprised her, shoving a few pieces of silverware into her hand when he moved around her, capturing her other hand in his own and dragging her into the dance as well. “9 coffins creaking~.”

  
The red reaper gasped when she was pulled into the movements, stepping carefully to avoid crushing his toes under her own feet, she could recall the last time that she danced with another, the image of Madam Red in her arms briefly flashing in the back her mind before the present pushed it aside, she was now dancing in the female role she always had longed for, and the Undertaker had been the one to finally give it to her, _I’ve…I’ve never danced with a man before…as the woman…_ She barely remembered to lay a knife in its place on the table as her nerves rattled like animals at the bars of her ribcage and a lump formed in her throat that forced her to swallow hard; in order to keep it from returning she focused on the song, realizing it was her turn, she thought over his profession and a smirk formed on her lips, “8 mourners sobbing~.”

  
Undertaker chuckled, twirling her as he set down the last of the silverware, “7 reapers dancing~.”

  
Grell squealed with delight, coming out of the spin and into his arms, his now free hand instantly finding its place on her lower back and brought her closer to him, her nerves spiking again though her face could not get any more red at this point. “…6….6 souls a haunting.”

  
“Oooh creepy my dear, how perfect!” He moved them in a more uniformed rhythm now that was closer to the waltz, with a hidden glance to the urn still sitting on the table he found the next line in an instant, “5 bone cookies~!”

  
She nearly lost her footing at that, his enthusiasm boosting her own as she pressed closer to him, feeling the lean yet strong frame that was hidden beneath his long shirt and she thanked whatever powers that be that he’d given away his outer robe and sash and had not seen fit to put on new ones or else he would have had too many layers for her to feel him beneath them. He lead her in a graceful turn that made their hair flow outward, strands of red and silver blending together in the air and the remainder of the song they had started together came easier now that she was experiencing such overwhelming joy. “4 polished skulls~.”

  
Undertaker released her back just long enough to pull 4 lilies out of what looked like thin air; he placed one in her hair behind her ear and twirled the remaining between his fingers, placing them in the small vase sitting in the center of the table, completing the setup. “3 white lilies~.”

  
Her head tilted to the side and lowered a bit as she smiled, looking even more ladylike in that moment, though the goofy smirk on his face made another giggle escape from her breast, “2 funny jokes~.”

  
The mortician finished the dance, allowing her to spin lightly out of his grip so that she stopped at her end of the table; he spread his arms wide and let his voice step up a notch in volume. “And a body hanging from a dead tree~!”

  
That sent them over the edge and they collapsed in their chairs in fits of laughter, Undertaker holding onto his chair tightly to keep from falling out of it. Grell was the first of them to recover, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “You delightful nut, I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun!”  
The ancient’s laughing died down to chuckles, he too wiping tears away. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself as much as I did my dear, you’re a very good dancer and you have a lovely singing voice. Where did you learn if I may ask?”

  
“Charmer,” she waggled a finger at him, “if I blush any more tonight I’ll explode!”

  
He offered a shrug and a wide smile, “It is true though, you know it is my dear, you just won’t admit it to yourself.” He rose from his seat, serving each of their plates with chicken, potatoes and steamed vegetables.

  
She blinked, thinking over what he said, “Well…no one’s ever told me things like that before…you’re the only one who has ever said any of the things you said to me tonight.”

  
“And that is the biggest shame I have seen in all my years.” He turned, his ever present smile had faded and his voice was serious, “You deserve better.”

  
She stared at him from her seat, unaccustomed to this side of him and a bit stunned by its sudden appearance, but she could hear the ring of honesty in his tone and his words reached inside of her to touch her very soul. “…Thank you.” It was all she could say, but she meant it more than she ever had. “I never thought I’d find someone like you Unny.”

  
“A loon?” he tilted his head, his Cheshire smile slowly reforming as he set her plate down in front of her, retrieving his own from the counter top before returning to the table and sitting across from her.

  
“No you old fool, not that!” she flicked a carrot ring at him, snickering when it hit him in the cheek, the butter making it stick there, “Someone who’s good to me. I can’t believe I overlooked you as a crazy, handsome creep when you only ever wanted to make me happy. I…I owe you an apology.” She glanced down, twiddling her fingers a bit.

  
The carrot had caught him off guard, he chuckled and pulled it off his cheek, popping it into his mouth and wiping the butter away on a napkin, “Heehee, that’s not necessary, we’re here noooww~ isn’t that what matters?” he flicked a bean back at her, using his long nails like a launch pad.

  
“Gah!” she ducked the green projectile, “How dare you aim for a lady’s face!” she shouted in mock anger, the sharp tooth grin on her lips giving her away, “I’d stuff this chicken down your trousers if it didn’t look so delicious.” She clasped her hands together, eyeing her food hungrily.

  
Undertaker nearly choked on his tea, coughing a bit as his less than pure mind flashed with images he had to suppress in regard for his dignity. A slightly nervous laugh escaped him and he cleared his throat before speaking, “I certainly hope it turned out as well as it smells. Let’s dig in love.” He picked up his fork.

  
“Oh I agree!” Grell lifted her own as well but put a hand up to stop him, “But um…before that…”

  
Undertaker paused, looking up in mild worry, “Hm? Something wrong?”

  
“No no!” she was quick to answer, “Nothing’s wrong it’s just I was wondering if I could…make a little request.”

  
He mentally sighed in relief, glad he had not somehow upset her, “Of course, anything, what might it be?”

  
Secretly the young reaper hoped that she wouldn’t be crossing the line with her host. She hated to ask another thing from him after all he had done but this was something that she greatly wanted and hoped that he would be open to. “Well I…” she bit her lip lightly, minding her own teeth, “I’d love to look into the eyes of the man I’m dining with…if…if that’s okay I mean.”

  
The mortician snickered, “That’s no trouble at all.” He combed his fingers through his bangs, parting them so that they laid in such a way that his eyes could be seen. Instantly his alluring gaze captured her own and locked her in place. She had remembered what they looked like from the last time she had managed to get a peak but seeing them in person was so much better than the image she’d branded into her memory and she was unable to prevent the look of awe that came over her features.

  
Undertaker observed her staring at him as a few heartbeats passed by, finally he leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his chin on them. “Cat got your tongue?”

  
Grell snapped out of her stupor, “Ah! I’m sorry that was rude, it’s just…you hide such a beautiful part of yourself Under-dear.” Her lips formed into a pout, “it’s a shame you don’t have them on display more often.”

  
His tone turned more mysterious, “Ahhh but if I did it would give me away …and others would know what I’m thinking.”

  
“I suppose that’s true,” she sighed, “but it’s still not fair!”

  
The elder chuckled, “If it helps I would be willing to show you whenever you ask and I’ll leave them this way for the rest of the evening.”  
Her own eyes sparkled and she clasped her hands together again, “Really? You’d do that for me?”

  
“Of course.” He nodded, “Now shall we enjoy this feast that we’ve made?”

  
“Yes we should, it smells wonderful!” she picked up her fork again and began eating, the flavors dancing gracefully on her tongue and she closed her eyes in bliss, “This is delicious, the chicken melts in my mouth! Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  
Undertaker examined the meat on his fork, “I’ve had centuries of practice. When you’re old as diiirt you pick up a few things. But don’t forget dearie that you helped, I didn’t believe for a second you were as bad a cook as you claimed.”

  
“Well I suppose I’ll have to add steamed vegetables in butter to the list of things I can make then.”

  
The mortician nodded, his smile turning mischievous, “Yes, right next to your ‘to die for salad’. Heehee I’d love to try that sometime.”

  
“And you will.” Grell pointed at him with her knife, “I’ll ruin you for all other salads and you’ll keep crawling back for mine!” she smirked when Undertaker near doubled over with laughter, having to wipe his eyes again before he could resume eating.

  
The meal passed just like that, the two exchanging witty banter and sharing stories from their lives. Grell was especially interested in Undertaker’s stories from when he was still reaping; she admired the way his eyes shimmered with ageless wisdom as he told them and how they glinted with the spark of the warrior that he still was at heart. Undertaker in turn was captivated by Grell’s excitement and flamboyance. Rare was the instance when he encountered someone so heartwarmingly cheerful, for his line of work and oddity often brought him only the gloomiest of company. Her presence was like a gift, a precious commodity that he longed to hold onto forever as it brought a light into the ever present darkness that was his world and filled him with a happiness even laughter couldn’t bring him.

  
When the dishes were cleaned and put away he served desert, pouring them each a glass of a sweeter red wine to go with it. Grell was more than happy to move into his living room. She eagerly seated herself on his black couch, after setting her plate and wine down on the small coffee table. Undertaker went to the fireplace and got a warm flame going in the hearth to ward off the cold that was starting to seep into the cracks of the old building. He came away from the blaze once it was crackling with sufficient life; she scooted over to make room for him as he seated himself beside her. She was about to pick up her glass again when a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and she was lifted into the mortician’s awaiting lap, a gasp of surprise escaping her as her eyes went wide and her body went stiff. “U-unny?” she questioned, a shiver running through her when he nuzzled his face into her hair. He leaned them back, resting his cheek on the top of her head, his arms holding her close to his chest, “Thank you for today my dear, I have never had such a lovely holiday to speak of. You have made this Christmas eve very special for a lonely old sod like me.”

  
The crimson reaper brought a hand to her lips; his words and the sincerity with which he spoke them warming and breaking her heart all at once. She relaxed in his hold, settling her body against his, marveling at how perfectly they fit together. “You’ve made this special for me too. I don’t know how I’ll ever-” she paused, her speech ended abruptly by the grandfather clock in the corner chiming the hour with a resounding tone. She squinted to see its hands in the flickering fire light and shadows of the room. “Midnight…its Christmas morning.” She smiled.

  
“So it is,” The mortician purred behind her and she could tell he was grinning warmly without even having to see him, “just what I have been waiting for.”

  
“Hm? What do you mean?” tilting her head back she looked at him upside down and he lowered his chartreuse gaze to meet hers. “It just so happens I have a little gift for you my dear, though before you came here tonight I was unsure when or if I would ever get the chance to give it to you.”

  
She blinked a few times, sitting up a bit to look at him properly, “A gift…for…for me?”

  
He nodded as he reached behind her ear and seemed to pull a small black box tied with a red lace ribbon out of the air itself. “It’s not much but…I do hope you like it.” he offered her the gift with a slightly shaky hand.

  
_He’s nervous._ She noted, a look of surprise and wonder on her features as she took the present carefully, admiring the red color of the ribbon around it before undoing it and pulling it off, setting it across her leg to preserve it. She lifted the lid off of the box and took in a sharp breath at what she saw. Within, nestled on a bed of soft white cloth was a brooch of the reddest and most vivid cherry wood she had ever laid eyes on. It was carved in the perfect shape of a rose, and had been varnished as well as polished and was fitted with an elegant silver pin.

  
Undertaker sat frozen in place, a lump having settled tightly in his scarred throat as he watched her with fully unveiled eyes for her reaction, his long fingers twining around each other as he awaited her judgment with bated breath.

  
“Oh my god Unny…” She whispered, taking the wooden rose from its resting place, “This is…this is so beautiful!” She admired its intricate carving carefully, how each petal had been given the utmost care, the right amount of sanding, and the perfect level of polish. Memories of her tour through his home coming to mind and she looked to him, searching his face. “Did you...make this yourself?”

  
The mortician swallowed hard to free his voice from its makeshift cage, his expression modest as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously, “Yes.”

  
Tears pricked the corner of Grell’s vision in that moment, her heart feeling as though it was about to burst. Even before he had found her that night crying on the snow riddled porch of a stranger he had been thinking of her and hand-crafted her a gift for Christmas. She was touched beyond words, her tears spilling down her face but they never reached the floor, for the man beside her cupped her face gently and used his thumb to brush them away. In an instant she threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around his shoulders, “Thank you, I love it more then you could ever know!”

  
Slightly stunned by the sudden embrace Undertaker chuckled with much needed relief, returning the hug warmly, “I’m glad my dear, I’ve wanted to make you happy for so very long…”

  
“You have!” She sniffled and pulled back, allowing him to pin the brooch on the vest she wore over her white dress shirt, “I’ve never been so happy before…I only wish that I had a gift for you too…”

  
Undertaker glanced up, his eyes glowing dimly in the low light and his smile turned even gentler. “You’ve already given me the greatest gift I could ever hope for.” He secured the brooch and straightened his back, his long fingers running along the silken strands of her ruby hair and making him shiver pleasantly at the feel of it, just as he’d imagined.

  
“I…I have?” Grell tilted her head slightly to the side in confusion, recounting the evening in attempt to remember.

  
“Indeed you have.” The mortician tilted her chin up slightly and gazed into the depths of her soul, “You’re company.” He leaned forward and closed his eyes, pressing his soft lips to hers, his hand moving down to cradle her lower back while the other combed through her blood colored locks again.

  
She melted into the kiss, her lips animating against his as she held onto him tight, a wave of emotions crashing over her and lapping at the edges of her mind. This was where she belonged, in the arms of the silver knight she had been searching for and, under the most unlikely circumstances, had finally found. She pulled back from him after a moment, moving a strand of his bangs away from where it had fallen as she met his eyes again, a soft pink hue on her cheeks and a light shining for the first time in her soul. “Merry Christmas Unny.”

  
Undertaker took in the beautiful glow surrounding the crimson angel that made him feel so very alive, in all the countless centuries he had walked upon the earth, never had he seen such radiant magnificence, nor felt so accepted. Pressing his forehead to hers gently he kissed the tip of her nose and whispered in a tender voice reserved just for her, “Merry Christmas Grell.”


End file.
